Cer Amón - Continued
by Ticklesivory
Summary: Obidala. There's no other way to say it but to say this fic is an Explanation Fic. I did such a poor job with the ending of the original Cer Amón, I decided that for Valentine's Day, I would fix it! This is a continuation of that original story. I hope everyone enjoys it. I wrote it in a day. :)


**Title:** Cer Amón ~ Continued

 **Author:** Ticklesivory

 **Warnings:** This is a rated M fic and there's a good reason! Underage people, please read with discretion!

 **Disclaimer:** Same as before and before that…and before that…. ;)

 **Author's Notes:** I recently received a note from a reader about the original story, couldn't remember it, went back and read it, and decided it needed a better ending! I unintentionally left the ending too vague for readers to understand. In fact, I wasn't really sure what I was hinting at myself! I strongly advise readers of this new continuation fic to read the original story first so you'll know what the heck is going on. Even though I'm going to use this one to explain the other, if you don't read the other, you're going to be as confused as a chameleon at the end of a rainbow. We will begin with part X – which is quite fitting, as you'll see.

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 **X**

The night was young, and surrounding them were the moans and groans of lovemaking. That, compounded with the smell of her perfume, as well as the nearby twinkling lights reflecting in her eyes, was all it took. Obi-Wan had seen the collection of toys and aphrodisiacs on the tables in the Temple at the top of the steps, but he didn't need them. Not with Padmé. Her smell, her touch, the way she looked at him – were all a lethal combination that hardened him within seconds of his orgasm. She was all he needed.

He wasn't sure if a repeat performance was required by the goddess Amón or not, but Obi-Wan realized he really didn't care. He had this night with her, and he was going to make the most of it.

The evening air of Cer Amón was cool, and it felt good upon his heated skin. Her touch was soft as the satin sheets on their bed and caused him to shiver as her hand drifted down his torso, once again wrapping around his hardened shaft. Her massage was initially slow, but the friction began to build as did his desire, until Obi-Wan stilled her with his own grasp.

"Wait. Stars, Padmé," he groaned into the night. "You're driving me mad. If you keep that up, I'm going to come."

"Isn't that the point?" she teased, pulling his head down to nibble on his lips. Obi-Wan tried focusing his attention on her kiss instead of his groin. He wanted this moment with her to last as long as possible. His Padawan had called him 'old' earlier. We shall see just how long this 'old' man could last!

Their kiss deepened, and Obi-Wan sunk down onto the bed with her, wrapping Padmé tightly about his body, fiercely possessive, his erection hot and heavy against her stomach. She moaned a deep and low purr into his mouth, only fueling his desire once more, and causing his hips to involuntarily move.

"I knew," she told him as she drew in a breath, "it would be this way. That we would fit together."

Obi-Wan chuckled softly in amazement. He wasn't a monk. Women in the past had actually complained about his ample size, and he wasn't sure how or why, but she was right. They seemed to be designed for one another, with all the pieces fitting perfectly together like a well-constructed lightsaber.

Lying side by side, Padmé lifted her leg onto his hip, and with her hand, guided him once more inside her body. Obi-Wan hissed in ecstasy as he rocked forward and slid completely into her moist center. He wanted to continue moving, but she stilled him suddenly with a hand on his hip.

"We have all night," she gasped, matching his earlier decision. Not only were they physically compatible, but mentally as well. Just as he had hoped.

Obi-Wan understood and began pistoning ever so slowly in and out, in and out; one hand gently kneading her breast, while the other supported her head, a fist lightly wrapped in the soft curls of her dark hair.

The angle of their bodies hampered his strength, but it took the edge of his passion as well, and allowed their lovemaking to continue at a more controlled and leisurely pace.

They studied one another in the moonlight: Two naked bodies, intimately intertwined, flushed with passion, taut with lust, eyes open, filled with admiration.

Obi-Wan had known Padmé for over ten years, and had often dreamed of her like this, but his fantasies had never come close to the vision lying beside him. He had never imagined the quiet, provocative sounds she would make, the way her back arched against him, the strength of the hand that gripped his buttock.

He'd believed that as a Jedi, he'd been thoroughly trained in restraint, and possessed the ability to maintain self-control in all forms of negotiations and combat. However, this petite politician in his arms was about to cause all his training to be resolutely tossed aside. All Obi-Wan wanted to do was flip Padmé onto her back and drive into her forcefully, to end this sweet torture. But then he noticed the beads of sweat appearing along her brow, and realized she was holding them back for a reason, and he continued to move as she wished.

And oh, when her eyelids drifted shut, and she bowed against him, Obi-Wan decided their patience was worth it. She shuddered beautifully in his arms as he felt the pulse of her inner muscles around him. Her hand continued to guide his hip even though he was beginning to sweat himself, but then it released him as a sweet smile of satisfaction spread across her lovely face.

"Don't hold back, Obi-Wan. Fuck me like I know you want to."

The shock of the vile words coming out of that alluring mouth drove him over the edge. With heightened passion, he positioned Padmé onto her back and stretched her legs high, allowing him to change his angle and thrust as deeply and aggressively as his desire demanded. They both grunted with each forceful impact of his hips, their bodies smacking together loudly in the stillness. He managed to keep up that pace for some time until he was completely overcome, undone, and spent. He spilled himself inside her, her hands gripping his thighs, pressing him impossibly closer.

Then suddenly, all was quiet and still except for the sound of the night creatures chirping, and the distant noises of others coupling.

"That was…" he couldn't find the words, and doubted any had been invented yet.

"Beyond my wildest dreams," Padmé offered.

He had collapsed beside her and could barely find the strength to turn his head. "You dreamed of me?" he asked with a trace of uncertainty.

Her breathing had yet returned to normal, he noted with a smile. "Since the day we met."

That statement confirmed what the Force had seemed to be telling him, in a most obvious way, although he'd been too stubborn to listen. They were meant to be together. He could no longer deny it.

"Cer Amón," Obi-Wan said the name without the slightest trace of resentment now. "We'll have to return here sometime. Perhaps on our anniversary."

 **XI**

"You are not the one my father chose for me."

Already the Force persuasion had worn off, which meant Carméon was more intelligent than he had initially believed, or perhaps she was Force-sensitive. Either way, Anakin had one of two options: He could try another command, or he could tell her the truth.

He lifted his hand, gathered the Force, and then changed his mind.

"Do you believe in love?" he asked the attractive young woman as they walked down a leaf-littered pathway, passing several altars with squirming couples on them along the way.

"Cer Amónians believe in all forms of love. It's the reason for this celebration," she replied with a hint of incredulity.

"Not that kind of love," Anakin explained. "Not the physical, sacrifice-to-the-gods-and-godesses kind. I'm talking about the kind that makes you crazy, steals your appetite, makes you only want to be with one person for the rest of your life. That kind of love."

She looked at him as if he were suddenly speaking a language she didn't understand, and Anakin realized with some surprise, she didn't. Apparently, the people on this planet didn't believe in monogamy. He wasn't sure he did either, but it only made what he had to say to her more difficult to explain.

"My Master and that woman he's lying with are in love with each other. They have been for a long time. They want to be together. Forever. I know that's hard to believe, but when you feel that way about someone, you don't want to be with anyone else or lie with anyone else. You know? As in have sex? Make an Offering? Do you understand?"

She frowned, her finely arched brows knitting together, until she reached for his hand and a small smile replaced her confusion. "It sounds a little naïve, but I think that's sweet. Have you ever felt that way about anyone?"

Anakin thought for a moment. He hadn't really had the opportunity to fall in love, though he'd had plenty for sex. There was a seemingly endless supply of females who wished for nothing more than to fuck a Jedi, but when it came to that kind of love? Nobody came to mind.

"Not yet," he answered.

"I like you," was her next statement, which surprised the young man yet again. "But my Father will not be pleased if he finds out. He has had a vision of his successor. My child is to be born of the Line."

Now, it was Anakin's turn to look confused. "The Line? Can you explain?"

She stopped then on the path which was twisting through the heavily wooded area, and behind her, he could make out the rather heavyset, hairy man they had met when they had arrived at the Celebration. That didn't bother him, but what the naked woman servicing him did, and Anakin had trouble concentrating. He abruptly stepped to the side to alter the scenery.

"Every generation must be born from the Line." Carméon began. "The gods have foreseen it. All priests must be male, born with the required spiritual gifts. When he comes of age, he will take the place of the High Priest and become leader of Cer Amón."

Well, that wasn't in the specs of the mission! "What type of spiritual gifts?"

"It varies," she explained with the heavy accent of her people. "Some priests have had the ability to move things with their minds, others heal, while some move with great speed."

A playful smirk lifted the corner of Anakin's mouth as an idea came to him. Before she could utter another word, he had bolted to a distant platform and back again. "Like that?" He chuckled when he noticed her jaw had dropped a little.

"Are you from the Line? Do you have the gifts as prophesied?" she asked, her dark eyes widening.

"I'm not sure what this Line is, but I'm a Jedi. Some say I have more of what makes a Jedi than anyone, so yeah, I guess you could say I have more gifts than even my own Master."

Carmeón cocked her head as she considered this new information. She didn't question him, but after a moment, stepped forward, pressing her petite, leather-bound breasts against him. "Then my Father should be most pleased. And it is you I accept for my Offering to Rancemo."

Anakin wasn't sure what all that meant, but he could feel the beginnings of arousal deep within his belly, and he allowed her to guide him to the empty, glowlit platform he had run to earlier. She eased him gently onto the low-loft mat which had been placed in its center and then began removing her leathers.

As he had guessed on their first meeting, her body was perfect. Her dark skin glowed in the moonlight and artificial glowlights wrapping the columns, her nipples perfectly round, just the right size, and as sweet as nectar. And even though she claimed he was her first, apparently she had been trained, because she straddled him and rode him aggressively as if she had done so many times before. In his experiences, Anakin had never appreciated noisy females, and she didn't disappoint him. When she reached orgasm, her sighs were a soothing accompaniment to their serene surroundings, though she bucked against him violently. And for a moment, just a moment, he thought if monogamy was something he could believe in, he could believe in it for her.

 **XII**

"I'm hungry," Padmé exclaimed abruptly, although food was as far from Obi-Wan's mind as it could possibly be. He figured it was a few hours before dawn, as they could no longer hear the sounds of lovemaking around them, and decided it would be safe to venture back up to the Temple.

He helped Padmé with her leathers, taking the opportunity to kiss her more than once, and she did the same with his fur wrapping afterward. Considering they only had a few, scant pieces of clothing, dressing had taken them an extraordinary amount of time, he thought, chucking aloud.

"What is it?" she asked, her hands smoothing his ruffled hair and beard.

"If I ever ask you to assist me in getting dressed for a mission, I'll miss my transport."

He knew their love was new, especially when it came to this level of intimacy, and so he understood it wouldn't always be this way, but he could hope.

Understanding lit her eyes, as she drew him close, and they stood together in a silent embrace beneath the twinkling glowlights which adorned the bed columns until Obi-Wan's own stomach began to complain.

Managing to walk together while still wrapped tightly about one another, they ascended the steps back up the Temple, coming to a full stop however, when they noticed a pair of dark skinned feet on the steps at eye level.

A sinking feeling struck Obi-Wan in the gut. They'd been caught. The High Priest Marconé would be furious!

However, as they stepped up the last few steps, it wasn't the face of the Priest which greeted them, but the thunderous frown of a man whom he had faced down on several occasions. Obi-Wan hadn't noticed the similarities until now, but he didn't have the time required to figure it out. Not just yet.

"Mace Windu?" Padmé was the one who finally spoke up. "What are you doing on Cer Amón?"

"I'm always present for the Feast of Rancemo," the Jedi Council Member announced bluntly, his eyes burning into Obi-Wan, although Obi-Wan was too distracted by the bright purple hide wrapped around the Jedi Master's hips as well as the ornate golden collar about his neck, and the long trail of red and purple feathers cascading down from the top of his bald head.

"Senator Amidala, it is a pleasure to see you, though your presence is unexpected. Unexpected, indeed," the older man fumed, his arms crossing over his chest; arms which were gilded with bands of gold embedded with purple jewels. "But as for you, Master Kenobi, I cannot begin to express my disappointment."

"I beg your pardon, but you're going to have to explain, " Padmé insisted, squeezing Obi-Wan's hand tightly.

"Follow me to my Temple."

Obi-Wan did as the man had requested, glancing at Padmé as they walked. She mouthed the words ' _My Temple?'_ but he had no answers. He was just as confused as she apparently was.

They strode through the hall where they had danced earlier, stepping over clinging bodies now stilled in slumber, down the steps, across the street and up another flight of steps into another building Obi-Wan had noticed but had previously been unaware was quite this grand. The opening visible from the street was just the entrance. Once you entered, walked past the trickling fountains and variety of flowering plant life, the space widened significantly, revealing a variety of luxurious carpets, draperies, handhewn tables overflowing with food and wine, and scantily-dressed servants who all bowed low upon Windu's arrival.

Toward the back of the columned theater was a settee covered with purple hide, much like the one which hid Windu's most personal attributes, and it was there the Jedi Master seated himself, immediately being fanned by a trio of maidens wearing red hides and feathers.

"I imagine this is all quite strange, but it's a long history. Please, have a seat." The older Jedi motioned for them to sit upon two cushions located just beneath his, and Obi-Wan and Padmé took their places there silently and utterly intrigued.

"When I was born, I had a twin brother who was as gifted as I was with the Force. However, he was born a few seconds before I was, and so he was the one to enter into the priesthood. His name was…"

"Ron," Obi-Wan interrupted, causing Windu to frown in aggravated confusion.

"Do you know of my history? I commanded Master Nu to have my records sealed! Only Master Yoda knows of my…"

"No, nothing like that," Obi-Wan hurriedly explained before Mace blew a gasket. "I just used some deductive reasoning. Your name is Mace. The only letters missing were r, o, and n. So your brother's name has to be Ron, or Orn, or possibly Nro. I took a guess."

Obi-Wan's explanation did little to erase the crease of concern from Windu's brow, but he continued in spite of it.

"As I was saying, Ron became High Priest of Cer Amón, and I was sent to the Temple to train as a Jedi."

"How interesting," Padmé proclaimed. "All Priests are Force sensitive?"

"That would explain Marconé's abilities. The man is quite...forward." Obi-Wan pointed out as he squirmed in his seat.

"Marconé is my nephew," Mace explained. "The son of my brother Ron, who died of illness two seasons ago. I usually attend the Festival, though this year, I do so with a much higher purpose. Which brings us back around to you, Master Kenobi."

Once again, Mace's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing with aggravation. "Why did not you not follow Marconé's directive and accept his offering?"

"You mean sleep with his daughter?" Obi-Wan could hardly believe he was having this conversation! "Because," he gathered his confidence and shoved aside any possible doubt, "I don't believe in one-night stands, especially if the only purpose is to provide an heir. Was that the whole objective of this mission? To get me here to impregnate Carméon?"

"Yes."

He had to hand it to the man. At least he was honest. A little under-handed, but honest.

"For centuries, the Jedi have provided the Cer Amón Priesthood with a sovereign ruler. It has always been so."

"And you chose Obi-Wan," Padmé suggested. "I can see why," she smiled at him before turning her attention back toward Windu. "But why not Anakin? He's supposed to be the Chosen One. Wouldn't you want your Line to continue with what the Jedi consider their best?"

With that statement, Mace Windu pursed his lips, expelling a long splutter of ridicule. "Anakin Skywalker? He may be the Chosen One, but the boy is nothing but a reckless, arrogant, ill-tempered young man! He should've never been allowed to train as a Jedi! He caught fire to the Temple Commissary, collapsed every statue in the Serenity Sanctuary, and clogged up half the drains in the Room of a Thousand Fountains! And that was just as a Junior Padawan! Mark my words, he's going to be the death of us all! No offense meant, Master Kenobi."

"None taken?" Obi-Wan uttered in disbelief. He'd had a feeling the council member wasn't very fond of his Padawan, but his description of the youth's faults and variety of accidents had been a bit exaggerated, although he couldn't exactly disagree with them.

"And now because of your lack of self-control, he has infected the Royal Line of Windu with his seed!"

"Wait just a minute!" Padmé shouted, jumping to her feet, putting her head above Mace's, her hands gripping her narrow hips. "Anakin is an honest, kind, and loving human being! He is considerate, thoughtful, and loyal! Obi-Wan is doing a wonderful job with him, and I have noticed many improvements in his personality and attitude over the past few years! Maybe if you would come down out of your ivory tower once in a while, you would see a few things for yourself!"

Master Windu eyed the woman calmly and silently while his handmaidens urged Padmé to sit back down. Apparently, she was not allowed to stand with her head above his.

"If what you say is true," Windu voiced softly, his attention once again on Obi-Wan, "then I apologize for my misjudgment. However, I still do not understand why you chose not to follow your directive."

"That's simple," Obi-Wan explained, turning to gaze at the woman beside him. Her hair was tangled, her makeup had evaporated with the heat and sweat of their lovemaking, but she had never been more beautiful. "Because I love Padmé." He grinned, noticing relief blossoming upon her lovely face. "I love you Padmé, and I never want to be with another. Will you spend your days, your nights…your life with me?"

"Of course I will," she answered without hesitation before leaning forward to kiss him as if they weren't actually being observed by several people. There was a time Obi-Wan would've been quite uncomfortable about such a public display of affection. He would've considered it an assault on his modesty, but no longer. She was his, and he belonged to her, and he wanted everyone to know it. Especially Mace Windu.

"Fine. That's just fine," Mace announced, his hands slapping onto his crossed knees with a deliberate show of irritation. "And what am I supposed to do with Skywalker?"

"Welcome him into the family," Obi-Wan suggested as he stood, pulling Padmé up and against him, his arms wrapped around her waist. "Are we finished here? I have a mission to perform," he said to Mace without taking his eyes off Padmé.

"We need to find my Padawan," Obi-Wan announced as he swept aside a strand of hair from her forehead. "And then we need to find Priest Marconé. I wonder if he performs weddings."

A bright smile brightened Padmé's eyes, as she held Obi-Wan tightly. "I'm sure we can persuade him. If not, we may have to rely on more aggressive negotiations."

/End

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 **A/N:** Happy Valentine's Day readers! Now back to "Duty and Desire"….


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